


Six People to Rule Them All

by Superwholocked_Norse_God_of_Angmar



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, Doctor Who AU, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Michael and Mycroft parallels, Sherlock AU, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Superwholock, Torture, mycroft was not involved in the reichenbach fall, trigger warning: suicide/discussion of suicide & sucidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superwholocked_Norse_God_of_Angmar/pseuds/Superwholocked_Norse_God_of_Angmar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which God makes Lucifer human instead of casting him into hell. He can return if and only if he admits that humans are worthy, etc. Obviously, this doesn't work to well. Gabriel runs away and becomes Loki. Everything changes when Lucifer, Donna, and Sherlock are all kidnapped, trapped, and forced to work together to escape. Gabriel, the Doctor, and Molly end up working together to try and find the other three. Can they succeed? Or will their strong personalities ruin their chances of survival?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Banished

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fiction I'm posting, and the first Superwholock I've written. I hope it's good, please comment. Also, I apologize for the fact that the first couple chapters are mostly summaries, but there are a few thousand years or so I have to cover before I can get to the actual story.

_Chapter 1: Banished_

Lucifer loved his family. That he never questioned, even if they did. They questioned it because Michael was a moronic jerk and he was in charge, and even if Lucifer loved him, too, he wouldn’t let him hurt others with his stuck-up attitude. Gabriel seemed the only one to notice that Lucifer only ‘caused trouble’ when others were in danger. He was the only one who saw Lucifer’s actions as ‘standing up’ rather than ‘being ungrateful’.

The fifteen year old archangel became extremely close to his older brother, Lucifer. Michael hated Lucifer for it, and tension among the family grew. The eldest took every opportunity to lecture Gabriel, treating him like any other angel in his army, and his main lesson was to not become an upstart like Lucifer. Gabriel couldn’t stand it, and found himself in an emotional mess almost on a daily basis. Lucifer was always willing to comfort him and tell him that Michael was being an idiot and that he’d come around one day. Then he’d conjure up some candy or other sweet for Gabriel and play a game with him.

Then came the humans. Lucifer thought they were kind of dumb, messy, and all around a waste of time. He knew better than to share these opinions, though. But when his Father decreed that the angels should respect, love, and _serve_ the humans above all others, Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“They deserve little enough as it is. They are greedy, selfish, bloodthirsty beasts, and even if some are good, they will be overpowered, because it is the evil ones who will gain power! I shall not grovel to any so undeserving!” he shouted when he was brought before God with the archangels after expressing his opinion. God looked at him for a moment, then said, “I should throw you into the pit, cast you into Hell for this.”

“For what?! Saying what I think? Am I right, then, in saying that those worthless animals may have free will, but we cannot? Or perhaps just me? How are you a fair god? How are you even fit to rule if you play favorites on a whim and flaunt your power? _Oh_ ,” he continued with sudden understanding, “you are _exactly_ like those humans…No wonder you love them more than us.” He would have kept going, but Michael hit him from behind and he was knocked to the ground, out of breath. His older brother bowed before God and asked, “Shall I take him to the pit, then?”

After a moment of dead silence, God said, “No. I think now that it would be a far worse and more fitting punishment if I removed his powers,” Lucifer felt them vanish, “and his wings,” Lucifer screamed as his wings burned off his body, “and his grace,” the Morningstar’s pain as his grace vanished was too great and the sound he made scarred Gabriel and even Michael cringed in pity and fear.

“You are human now, and you must live among them until you admit their worth,” God’s voice was growing fainter and Lucifer’s vision dimmed from the pain as he fell unconscious.


	2. Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a bit of a summary. The next chapter is more of a story, but this one contains important information about Lucifer's time on Earth.

_Chapter 2: Earth_

When Lucifer opened his eyes, he was in a cave with light streaming in through the entrance. He would have wondered where he was, but the pain still strong within him reminded him of what had happened. He screamed and cursed God and Michael and humans for a few hours before he realized he was…hungry?

Damn them! Being human was already irritating. So he stumbled out of the cave and into the light. He appeared to be a deciduous forest and he could hear a stream nearby. Walking uncertainly over, he found the clear, beautiful water rushing over rocks and weeds in a race to nowhere in particular. Unsure of what to do, Lucifer followed his instincts and cupped his hands in the water, bringing them to his face and drinking the liquid. He could remember no wine or drink in heaven ever tasting as good as water did just then.

Looking around, he saw berries, herbs, and wild plants, and he could easily identify which ones were edible. Not that he really had to worry, as something told him God wouldn’t let him die. Quickly he collected enough food for a meal and ate. With his hunger gone, Lucifer decided to try and figure out where he was. He began walking, ignoring how sore his feet were becoming as well as the pain in his chest where his grace had been.

Eventually he found his way out of the woods, and immediately knew where he was. He could see early ancient Greece in the distance, and he made his way cautiously towards the nearest city. Looking down he realized he was dressed for the era already.

 

Time passed and he lived among the humans, hating them all. One of his first acts was to break into the Oracle at Delphi and it told him about the alternate timeline in which he became the devil. So Lucifer decided to get back at his Father by being as Satanic as possible.

When Socrates was in prison, it was he who convinced him to take the poison instead of trying to escape. It was he who convinced the Trojans not to guard the horse. As time passed, he continued his string of crimes. The medieval age neared as he crossed Europe, inspiring many of the fairy tales with his wicked deeds. Almost every leader that went crazy or turned corrupt used his deeds to fuel their horrible reigns. And Lucifer knew it. He tried as hard as possible to get humans to show their bad side, and show it they did. Yet still God did not apologize, admit that humans were terrible creatures or at least unworthy ones.

Lucifer was growing impatient and more tired of humans by the day. So he did the only thing he could think of that would annoy his Father more than messing with the humans. He defied his orders in the only way possible anymore and became a hermit. The Morningstar cut off all connections with humanity, hiding out in a cave in the forests of the March on the border between Wales and England.

After a long time there, probably decades, he ventured into a city again. When he reached it, he was mildly surprised to see it was on fire and Vikings were running through it, robbing the citizens and killing soldiers.

Intrigued, Lucifer approached one, drawing his weapon. Lucifer preferred the elegance of rapiers and knives, but he never could get over the weapon that shared his name. With his own morningstar held before him, Lucifer strode forward, facing the Viking with courage that did not go unnoticed by his opponent.

“You are more worthy of life than the rest of this miserable village,” called the man, “I will offer you one chance to live. Join us, or I must, regretfully, send you to Valhalla!”

Lucifer looked at him, eyebrow raised, “Oh I doubt you could send me anywhere! But as it is, I have long considered joining with your forces. I am curious about you, and your ways. Consider it a deal and introduce me to your crew.” It was true, he had learned of the Vikings a while back and thought that maybe these heathens could fit into his plan well.

 

The Vikings were unsure of him at first, but he seemed to possess many of the traits they valued, so they accepted him relatively well. He was fascinated by the tales they told and the gods they believed in.

On one particular mission, that had taken them further than usual as they went down to France, Lucifer learned of Loki, god of mischief, who was a little different thanthe other gods. He quickly realized that unlike the other gods, who were merely somewhat-powerful beings, Loki was obviously someone different. He swore to himself to find a way to meet this ‘god’ once they returned from France.

But things did not go as planned. Lucifer had a talent for the magical rituals performed before a raid, and he was in a cabin on the main ship with the captain and a few others when the French sent out their own ships to attack them in the night. Most of the Vikings went down, although they took quite a few French ships as well. Two ships got away, and the main ship was taken captive- a rare feat as Vikings fight to the death, so they had to be knocked unconscious.

They were dragged before some sort of council. Lucifer soon realized he was on trial for witchcraft and heathenism, guessing that the captain was on trial for similar charges somewhere else. A bell rang and the trial began.


	3. Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could probably be considered to have some angst. You've been warned.

_Chapter 3: Loki_

Gabriel watched in horror as his brother was screaming and writhing on the ground in pain. Rage filled him, checked only by his fear. He glanced over at Michael, who had smirked at the punishment and as Luce’s wings were burned off. But even he looked more than a little disturbed and distraught at the form twitching on the ground that was now human. 

The young archangel began to cry silently as Lucifer lost consciousness and was transported down to Earth. As soon as the meeting was over, Gabriel ran to his room and shut the door. There weren’t locks on the doors in heaven, why would anyone need to hide anything? So he shoved everything in his room in front of the door in an attempt to keep out Michael, who he knew would come soon to lecture him on how Lucifer deserved what he got and how he would come to the same end unless he followed Michael’s every word.

Curling up in a corner and sobbing, Gabriel heard Michael approach the door. He tried and failed to open the usual way. Gabriel knew he would try using his grace to open the door next, but he was prepared an his rage-fueled power made him stronger than the older archangel. Michael cursed and shouted through the door to let him in, but Gabriel held up against the assault until Michael gave up and went away. He’d have to deal with him later, he knew that, but at the moment he just couldn’t.

Usually when he felt bad, Gabriel had Lucifer there to tell him funny stories and conjure up something sweet. Now Gabriel doubted he would ever do that again. Tears streaming from his eyes, Gabriel had to try three times before he could snap a chocolate bar into his hand.

After a fortnight of sitting in his room like this, Gabriel managed to remove the barrier from his door and tiptoe out into heaven once more. The angels he passed gave him sympathetic glances, or reproachful ones, depending on whether or not they liked Michael. He had barely been out for a second when Michael jumped out from who-knows-where and began the lecture that he’d had two weeks to prepare. Gabriel ignored him and continued on his way until he stood at the edge of heaven. Michael was still behind him, preaching away like some damn salesman, when Gabriel turned around and punched him in the face. He broke Michael’s nose. His brother looked at him with an expression of shock, betrayal, but mostly anger. 

Gabriel ran as his brother healed himself then ran after him in rage. He caught him without trouble, Gabriel knew he would, and he struck him across the head, causing him to fall. When Gabriel hit the ground he felt Michael kick him once, then place a foot on top of him so he wouldn’t move.

“Never do that again, unless you want to end up in the same place as Lucifer,” he snarled, “Now you will follow my every order, and you will do exactly as I say because I am the oldest and I am always right. If you ever disobey me again, you will suffer far worse than a few bruises.” With that he removed his foot and walked away. Gabriel lay there for awhile, wishing Lucifer were there to protect him. He knew he wasn’t as brave as any of his brothers, and he knew he couldn’t stand up to Michael like Luce had. 

 

Days went by and Michael only got worse. He pushed Gabriel about like he did his soldiers, and Gabriel didn’t know what to do. Depression grew, as did hatred, and the only thing that could calm him down anymore was conjuring up candy like Lucifer always used to do. Then one day, he just broke.

It began when Michael ordered him to polish his sword. Gabriel just stared at him for a few seconds. That wasn’t a job for him, that was a job for Michael or one of his servants. But when Michael saw that he was hesitating, he raised a hand as if in warning of a strike to come. Gabriel hurriedly nodded and ran off to get the supplies. But as he sat there, fighting back tears at the way his brother was acting, a thought entered his mind. He had stopped making jokes the day Lucifer had lost his grace, but he remembered the time that he and Luce had pulled a prank on Michael together. The feeling of power and mischief was one of the best things he had ever felt. Maybe he could try to do it on his own.

That afternoon, Michael wandered into his room, thinking that maybe Gabriel was done with his sword, he was not prepared for the terror that awaited him. He figured that putting Gabriel to work would simultaneously help him forget about Lucifer, and help train him to follow orders the way they were supposed to. His job had been made that much harder by the freaky upstart Lucifer trying to corrupt poor, little Gabriel into a troublemaker. Hopefully, he thought, now that Lucifer was gone, Gabriel can return to his place. _Everyone_ , after all, has a place that should be remembered. Lucifer had always forgotten his.

But when Michael stepped into his room, he knew something was wrong. That’s when he realized the entire place was filled with snakes. Michael hated snakes. After regaining control of himself, he snapped them away. He slammed the door behind him, and that triggered water to shoot out of various places on the wall and ceiling. He stomped his foot in frustration, which caused the water to change to molasses. Michael shouted in rage and they stopped. When he looked down, his sword lay on the floor, brightly polished better than it had ever been. Looking over his shoulder at his wings, he let out a gasp of horror. They were drenched and stuck together, drooping to the floor with the weight of the sticky substance. Michael knew that if he tried to snap it off, he could end up hurting his wings. He would have to manually clean them. Before he did that though, he decided to confront Gabriel.

Marching through heaven, he ignored the raised eyebrows and stifled laughter that followed him until he found Gabriel reading a book in a place that was similar to a park, only far more beautiful then any earthly place. He stood over him, dripping water and drenched in sticky molasses. Gabriel turned a page. Michael glared down at him and coughed. 

Looking up innocently, he did a double take at Michael’s appearance. Clearly he was holding back laughter, but he managed to make it look spontaneous. Michael raised an eyebrow and simply said, “Care to explain?”

“Explain what?” Gabriel returned, with a concerned and confused voice. Michael gestured at himself but mostly his wings, “This. I know it was you, so don’t try to hide it.”

“Fine,” Gabriel stood, but he was pretty short so it didn’t make a lot of difference, his anger giving him courage he wasn’t used to, “You’re being horrible to me and I’m sick of it. I’m not your servant, now or ever. I’ve been doing some thinking lately, Michael, and I came to a conclusion. If heaven is supposed to be the best place in existence, why do I hate it here? Then I realized. You have been using your power to order me about, make me feel unnecessary, unwanted, and unimportant. You have made heaven my hell. So do _you_ care to explain _that_?!”

Michael probably would have realized how upset Gabriel was if he hadn’t been filled with self-righteous fury, “You should give me more respect than that! How dare you blame _me_ for anything! You are too young to be making decisions for yourself, and you need to get used to taking orders. And now you shall suffer for your disobedience!”

He took a menacing step towards the young archangel. Gabriel looked at him in disgust and betrayal then said, “Goodbye, brother. Don’t bother to write.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared. 

Michael had already been in the momentum of a swing he had been taking at Gabriel when his younger brother disappeared. He was carried forward and fell, hitting his head on the bench where Gabriel’s book was still sitting. When he regained consciousness, he and his wings were clean and his anger had abandoned him temporarily. Gabriel’s words rang in his head, haunting him as he looked around. He was alone in his room.

_‘sick of it’ ‘hate it here’ ‘unnecessary, unwanted, and unimportant’ ‘you made heaven my hell’ ‘care to explain?’ ‘Don’t bother to write.’_

Michael jumped out of his bed where he had been left. Rushing out to the park where Gabriel had disappeared from, he ran over to the bench. The book was still sitting there where it had been left. Michael picked it up and read the title, Robin Hood. The eldest archangel ran his finger over the embossed letters, flipping through the pages. Gabriel liked adventure stories with plucky characters and funny tricks being played against the oppressive leaders. 

Gabriel’s accusations were still running through his head as he pocketed the book and turned to one of the angels nearby, “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Two days, sir,” replied the angel bowing his head. Michael looked over at the bench and asked, “And what of Gabriel? How is he?”

The angel looked uncomfortable. Michael glanced back at him, brow furrowing, “What? Does he not want to see me or something?” The angel looked at the ground by his feet before slowly saying, “I do not know sir. We don’t know where he is.”

Michael’s eyebrows shot up, “Don’t know where he is? He didn’t come back?” The angel shook his head. Michael was indignant and disbelieving, “And you couldn’t find him? Why not?” The angel reluctantly continued, “He must be shielding himself. We are pretty sure he is no longer in heaven. We think he went to Earth and is hiding himself there as, probably, a powerful being of some sort. Probably a pagan god-but there are too many of them, especially if he is shielding himself from our searches. We think he ran away.”

The archangel couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t sure if he was angry at Gabriel for disobeying, or remorseful for knowing it was mostly his fault that his brother became so…spiteful. As much as he wanted to find his younger brother and help him, he knew there was only one way that Gabriel would ever want to come back, and that was one condition he was sure would never be met. Lucifer would never gain his powers back-he hated humans too much. 

And so, for once in his life, Michael made a good decision and said, “Call of the search. He’ll just do it again if we make him come back. We’ll just have to wait for him to grow up and come around.”

The angel was a bit surprised, but he was in no place to question the orders, so he left to spread the word. Michael returned to his room and put Gabriel’s book on his desk, to serve as a reminder of what happened when he let his anger take control.

 

Gabriel had indeed gone to Earth, taking the guise of a Trickster, calling himself Loki. He quickly became known to the humans as a god of the Norse, while he had a lot of fun playing pranks on the other Norse gods. He consoled himself with his pranks and jokes and in the rest of his time he searched for Lucifer, hoping that maybe he could help him, or at least hang out with him. Gabriel kept his taste for candy and anything with sugar. 

He became accustomed to this new lifestyle, trying not to think of his old life, and trying not to remind himself that he was alone. Lucifer was out there somewhere, in a worse situation probably. Gabriel just hoped he could find him before he pissed off too many humans with weapons.

Gabriel had no idea what he was getting himself into when he decided to show up to a pagan celebration to which all the gods had been invited. The Vikings held great feasts, but this one had a few uninvited guests who were about to make ‘Loki’s’ life a whole lot more interesting. 


	4. The Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which other fandoms start being introduced.

_Chapter 4: The Feast_

The city was preparing for the greatest feast they’d had in a long time. Every god had been invited to the Vikings’ celebrations, and many had accepted. Gabriel, as Loki of course, had decided that it might be fun. Dressed the part of the trickster god, Gabriel made his grand appearance among about fifty other pagan gods. The people around cheered and his gaze swept over the crowd. It came to rest on two people who seemed slightly out of place. That’s when he realized that they were wearing clothes from the future. Sure, they’d made an effort to sort of fit in, but he could tell. 

 

The Doctor and Donna had decided to take a break from aliens and empires and have a nice little trip to ancient Norway to see a ceremony held in honor of pagan gods. They ate the food served there, listened to the music, and participated willingly in the cheering as the gods made their entrances. Donna was more than a little shocked to realize that all the gods were real, but she took it quite well, even able to complain about the way that some of them brushed off humans. 

When Loki made his appearance, she asked the Doctor if all the stories about him were true. The Doctor shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe we could ask him sometime during the feast, he seems to be okay with interacting with his fans.”

Indeed, Loki was making sweeping bows and waving cheerily at the crowd, flashing a mischievous grin at random people. But when he saw the two of them, he froze, grin still present as his eyes scanned them with interest. The Doctor was no longer paying attention, but Donna didn’t miss the way his eyebrow twitched as if he recognized them for what they were. 

“Doctor,” she said, turning around to find him, “I think he may have…” She was cut off as a hand grabbed her from behind and she lost consciousness.

The Doctor, who had been busy watching a skald sing his introduction song for each of the gods. He looked over at Donna when he heard her talking, only to see the Master himself standing over her unconscious form. He glanced up at the Doctor, then took Donna and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Donna!” he jumped forward, but it was too late, the Master was gone and Donna with him. The Doctor spun around, running a hand through his hair trying to come up with a plan. He jumped when a voice behind him said, “Need any help?”

Loki himself was standing only about a foot away, staring intently and curiously at the Doctor. The Doctor looked him up and down, then said, “You’re the god of mischief. Why would you want to help me?” Loki glanced around before grabbing the Doctor’s arm and snapping them to a place where no one else was around to hear them. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at this ability.

“I’m not actually a god,” Loki said. The Doctor replied, “Well you certainly have powers I’ve never encountered before. So what, then, are you?”

“I am the archangel, Gabriel,” he said. The Doctor was surprised, “Archangel? So you mean to tell me that the humans got it right about the afterlife and such?” It was Gabriel’s turn to be astounded, “ ‘the humans’? Aren’t you a human?”

“I’m a Timelord. From the planet Gallifrey,” he replied. Gabriel frowned, he didn’t know much about the races other than humans. All the other races had either been spontaneously created from excess materials, were a failed experiment, were an experiment in the works, or had been made by one of the angels. He’d never heard of Timelords. So he used his grace to find out if what the man had said was true. Once he was sure, he told him, “Okay, so you’re telling the truth. Now, to get to…” He was interrupted by the Doctor, “You’re supposed to be Loki. How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

Gabriel sighed. It was a valid question. So he showed the man his wings and told him some of his story. The Doctor nodded and said, “Alright, I believe you. So why did you bring me here? Odd choice of places.” It was indeed, an ice cave in the middle of who-knew-where. Gabriel looked at him and said, “Your friend was kidnapped by a strange man. Neither of you are from this time. I am curious about you, and I want to help you find your companion.”

The Doctor looked at him, contemplating, then said, “I have a time-traveling spaceship. We could start our search from there.” And with that he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and called the TARDIS to him. Gabriel looked at the small box with amusement, “Seems a little small to me…”

“Just wait,” said the Doctor, accustomed to this bit. What he wasn’t accustomed to was Gabriel’s reply of, “I know man, I was just joking.”

“What?”

“I can sense the dimensional interference, as well as the chameleon circuit and many of the other features of your ship. I can see it both the way you do, and the way it truly is,” explained Gabriel. The Doctor looked at him with new respect.

“Well let’s go then,” he said, gesturing the archangel through the door. Gabriel just chuckled and stepped aboard. He was going to be an interesting passenger.

 

When Donna opened her eyes, she was in a strange room she’d never seen before. Indignant, she sat up, about to complain to the Doctor and ask where the hell they were, when she noticed that there were two other people in the room. Neither of them were the Doctor. 


	5. How Does Falling Feel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: suicide (reichenbach fall). The story starts to pick up a bit.

_Chapter 5: How Does Falling Feel?_

Sherlock dropped the phone. He had never been so scared in his life. Yet never had he been so calm. Moriarty’s corpse was behind him, lying in a puddle of his own blood. But his snipers were still aiming at Sherlock’s friends. He had long suspected that it would end this way, but he had hoped, as illogical as it was, that he could have stopped it. 

Molly had promised him that she would prove he wasn’t a fake and show the rest of the world. She had somehow suspected this ending as well, which had surprised Sherlock. He realized that she was one of the few people in the world that could surprise him, because she was neither a predictable, normal person, nor was she so similar to him that he knew what she was thinking. More surprising, and less believable, she had promised him that she’d find a way to save him. He doubted that was possible.

The feeling was horrible, and yet it was relieving. It was all about to end for him. Sherlock did not fear death. That made no sense. It happened to everyone, so why fear the inevitable? Still, as he stood on the ledge, every instinct told him to leave, to back up, to do anything but what he was about to do. Even his brain was trying to reason him out of it, trying to get him to feel guilty, too, about making his friends deal with it. But the realization that this was the only way to save them was too great, and there was no choice.

He took the last step, and he felt himself falling. There was no word that Sherlock knew to describe the feeling, as the ground rushed towards him. It was amazing and freeing, but at the same time it was horrifying and disturbing. His dreadful calm was the only thing that stopped him from flailing out and trying to find something to hold onto. He began to feel detached, even though he knew he wasn’t dead yet. In fact, it was almost as if he was watching his body fall. 

Then he realized that that was exactly what he was doing. His body hit the ground and there was blood pooling around his head. But he felt no pain-not in a spirit sort of way, but as if he was still suspended in midair while his body had just died. Looking down at where he should be, he saw his body was there also, but it was fading, and no one else seemed to be able to see it. 

Looking back at the body on the ground, guilt writhed up inside him as John ran forward. _The look on his face_. Sherlock knew he would never forget it. His instincts told him to look to the shadowed corner at one of St. Bart’s exits, and he saw Molly looking on in concern and whispering something with her hands clasped in front of her. 

And then the world faded-or perhaps he did, that seemed more likely-and Sherlock opened his eyes. He could feel his body, not bloody, and definitely solid. Quickly he analyzed the room he was in. There were four doors, most likely locked, one in the center of each wall. No windows were present. At the center of the room was a table with three chairs and a bright light that lit up the entire room. In two of the other corners were people. One was a woman with red hair and an irritated expression. She was awake and staring around the room as if it had personally offended her. The other was a still-unconscious man with blond hair and dressed in strange, medieval clothes.

When she saw he was awake, the woman asked, “So who are you?” Sherlock glanced at her and said, “I am Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. You were a secretary, then you began-traveling? Hmm. You are more intelligent then you let on because you are constantly trying to prove yourself and defend yourself equally, most likely because you have a troubled past of being told you are worthless. Judging from how calm you are in this situation-as I am guessing you arrived here in similar circumstances to myself-that is untrue.”

“Huh. And I suppose you can tell everything else about me from what I ate for breakfast to the last place I’ve been, but I would bet quite a bit that you don’t have a clue who I travel with, or where we usually go. My name is Donna by the way. I’m human, and I’m assuming you’re the same?” she asked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “You’ve met someone who’s not?” 

“Told you you’d never have guessed,” she replied, “So, any idea how to get out? Or maybe just where we are and what we’re doing here? Or who that is?”

Sherlock snorted, “Obviously the doors are locked. I’d already figured that, but since you asked, that confirms it. I have eight theories so far as to how to get out, more as to where and why we are here. As for him, he isn’t just dressed like he’s from the medieval era, he actually has come from there. I have never known time travel, but I have no proof against either, besides that it hasn’t happened to my knowledge. So it is plausible. Do you know anything about this?”

Donna snorted right back, “Do you think I’d have asked if I already knew? The only thing I can add to what you just said is that I actually have traveled in time, so no, I’m not shocked with your deduction of that man.”

“You have?” he asked, intrigued, “How? When? What’s it like?”

“I don’t know, do I?” she returned, “You think I’d just be sitting around here if I could time travel at will? I’ve got a friend who isn’t human. He’s the one that does it. I just join him sometimes, don’t I. We’ve gone all across space and time, and while it is fascinating, the one thing I can tell you is that trouble is everywhere. The grass is not greener on the other side, or whatever.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at this feisty woman. She had spirit, he gave her that. Perhaps they could find some way to work together and get out. Especially because, while she might not have, he had certainly noticed that there was no food, water, or other necessary means of survival. They would die in a couple of days if they couldn’t get out.


	6. The Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the 'graphic depictions of violence', in which there are some brief descriptions of medieval torture. Once again, you've been warned.

_Chapter 6: The Trial_

Lucifer was not treated well in prison, awaiting his witch trial. The guards avoided him except to spit at him or make jokes about the fires of the stake. He had some questionable water and moldy old bread as nourishment, and he cursed humans (albeit silently, as he would rather just win the trial rather than have to escape the stake). 

When the day finally came, he was taken by a guard of twenty heavily armed soldiers to the court. The prosecution began to list the offenses he had committed, and the judge listened intently. Lucifer fought hard not to laugh at the stupid ‘evidence’ against him. Things like his eyes being too bright, his stance too confident, he had a leather pouch with stones in it, all were used as proof that he was an evil spell caster. 

After awhile it became apparent that the trial was not going to be a fair one. Lucifer knew he was screwed as far as getting away without escaping was concerned, so he figured he’d have himself some fun. He started by muttering some Enochian beneath his breath as the prosecution talked. The guards around him jumped back, weapons raised. Lucifer smiled to himself.

The judge finally turned to him to ask if he had anything to say in his defense. Lucifer began, “Well, you see, I’d like to first say that every single thing the prosecution has said is one hundred percent true. What I’m wondering, is how any of that is relevant? Also, do you really think burning me at the stake will do anything? I mean, seriously, if I can do magic, what’s to stop me from magicking myself out of that damn fire, hmm? And if I-what was it-dance with the Devil? You really think he’d let one of his servants die? He has few enough of them as it is. I’d say that anyone who dies being burnt at the stake has given you proof enough that they are no witch.”

The people in the court were staring at him, some with shock, others with anger and confusion and one or two with thoughtful looks. Finally the prosecutor jumped up and yelled, “So you basically just said we _should_ burn you at the stake! Because we can use whether or not you live as proof to your innocence!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “You see what I was talking about, Father?” before saying, “If you must, but how much innocent blood have you got on your hands, eh? And if it fails to work, what’ll you do then?” The judge had already agreed to his execution and he was being dragged to the stake in the town square, shouting the words to his prosecutors who were following. One of them was a priest and he said, “Then I shall simply have to call God’s wrath down upon you!” Lucifer couldn’t hold in the laughter this time, and he cackled maniacally as he was tied up.

 

Bales of hay and straw were piled about him as the priest walked up to him, holding his cross and bible before him to protect himself. When he was in front of Lucifer, he asked, “Do you repent and ask God to forgive your sins? Will you denounce Satan in the hopes that God will accept your soul?”

The irony did not escape Lucifer, as he remembered his vision in the Oracle at Delphi. He _was_ Satan. Or at least, he was supposed to have been. He’d done his best to fill in, in his own absence. So he looked up at the sky and shouted with all the strength he could muster, “I’ll see you in Hell,  Father!” The priest drew back in shock and self-righteous anger, probably assuming Lucifer was talking to him, and spat at the ground in front of the ‘witch’. He declared, “Since you do not repent, the devil shall take your soul!” Lucifer just laughed. He wondered if they were getting this in heaven. He wondered if his attempts at living among humans was watched like a television show up there. The self-righteous bastards probably thought it was funny, the way he was about to be lit on fire by a bunch of mudmonkeys. 

He was dragged from the stake to the flogging post by soldiers of the cloth, and the priest ordered him to be struck seventy times, seven being a lucky number. Lucifer barely cried out in pain, able to take much more than any normal human. Eventually the sentence was fulfilled, and the priest allowed him to be retied to the stake.

The sheriff, or whatever he was called in this town, approached next. He held in his hands a sword that was designed to look like a cross. Lightly, he brushed the edge against Lucifer’s face, and the Morningstar could feel how sharp it was. The man snarled at him, “You have practiced black arts and you will die for your sins. But you must suffer for the insults and corrupting lies you have spread among the people and the Church.”

Lucifer pressed himself as far back as he could into the stake, knowing what was next. The man added pressure and the blade sliced through his flesh, drawing blood. Pain shot through his body, but Lucifer had known far greater pain when his grace had been ripped out, so he didn’t so much as twitch. 

Angered at the lack of response, the sheriff pulled the blade down along his face, cutting a long scar that ended at his chin, skipped his neck, and then dug into the flesh of his back, that was still bloody from the open wounds the whip had left. Lucifer managed to contain his pain to a sharp intake of breath and a slight flinching. Stepping back for a moment, the sheriff glared at his lack of response, knowing that the prosecutors wanted fear and screaming, and that he would pay if they didn’t get it. 

Then he saw the scars from where Lucifer’s wings used to be. He didn’t know what they were, but he cut into them with his blade and Lucifer screamed. Coming back around to face him, dragging his blade lightly through his side, the sheriff saw the similar scar from where his grace had been ripped out and pulled his sword across it. 

The pain was not as great as it had been on the day of his banishment, but it was close. Lucifer was tearing his throat to bits with his screams, but he couldn’t stop as he felt the blade enter his old wound. Finally the sheriff stopped and said, “Let this be a lesson to any upstart who thinks he can be disrespectful to the church and the government!” 

Lastly, the executioner slowly walked up to the stake. He was hooded and cloaked, so Lucifer couldn’t see anything of him. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Lucifer wondered if God would let him die. When he opened his eyes again, the executioner was right there. He had a torch in one hand and a cross in the other. Lucifer looked at his bright blue eyes, reminded of his own, when he realized the cross in the man’s hand was inverted. He gasped at the realization, just as the torch hit the straw. He felt the fire coming closer, burning his feet and coming closer. He blinked in the smoke, but when his eyes fluttered back open, the fire, the smoke, and the crowd were all gone. 

 

Instead, he was in a relatively small room with a door in the middle of each wall and a table with three chairs beneath a light in the center of the floor. Sitting in two of the chairs was a man with curly black hair and a woman with long red hair. He glanced down at himself and saw that his clothes had been replaced with less torn-and-bloody ones. Groaning, he sat up. The wounds on his back, face, and chest were gone, as were the burns on his feet and legs. The pain was still present, though, so he knew he had not imagined it.

Hearing him, the other two looked over. One looked annoyed and the other calculating. He stumbled to the third chair and practically fell into it. Finding his voice, he asked, “So who the bloody hell are you, and what did you bring me here for?”

The man opened his mouth to answer when the woman jumped in with a sassy, “You think we know?! We’re in the same boat as you, moron!”

The man waited for her to finish before saying in a surprisingly deep voice, “I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is Donna Noble. We all woke up in this room. The doors are locked. We think it may be a test, that we have to work together to get out. You are from the 1100s, I think. Do not be alarmed at the way we speak or dress. We are from the future, as difficult as that may be to believe.”

Lucifer scoffed, “Yeah, I can see that. I’m not a normal _human,_ ” he spat the word, “I’m immortal and have lived through many ages. Before I was human, I was an archangel, so I’ve seen where you’re from. Don’t worry about _alarming_ me with your ways. I’ve seen worse. And whoever sent us here doesn’t want us dead. They saved me from being burned at the stake.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “I was also saved from certain death. Curious, as there is no way to live if we remain in here.” Donna was a little less concerned with that and more concerned with, “You were _an archangel_?” 

Lucifer chuckled, then gave a mock bow, “Lucifer Morningstar, at your service. Or rather not. I serve no one.” Both Donna and Sherlock took a step back (they had all stood up in excitement at various point in the discussion). Sherlock looked both amused and surprised. Donna looked wary, “You? You’re the devil?!”

“Hard to believe, ain’t it?” he replied with a wink. She took another step back, “I’m not working with Satan! It’s not like he’ll help us anyway,” she was now speaking to Sherlock, “I mean, he’s pure evil, right?”

“Pure evil?! I’m hurt!” exclaimed Lucifer in a sarcastic tone. Sherlock had his fingers tented before him and his eyes closed. They snapped open and he half-yelled, “Shut up! Just shut up a moment, I’m thinking!”

“Like any human _really_ thinks,” Lucifer began but something in Sherlock’s glare made him stop. Sherlock’s hands began to move about, his eyes following them as if he was working on something invisible to the others. Finally his hands dropped to his sides and he said, “I’ve come to a conclusion. Either someone wants us to learn to work together, or they want the same for the people looking for us. I was supposed to die in the fall, but someone-Molly is her name-promised to save me. I assume she made a deal that landed me here. If anyone is looking for me, it is her. What about the two of you? Is anyone looking for you?”

Donna nodded, “My friend, the alien, his name’s the Doctor. He’s undoubtedly looking for me. I was in ancient Norway with him, watching a feast with a bunch of pagan gods when I was captured. He probably thinks he has to dash off and be all heroic. That seems to happen no matter where we go.”

Lucifer paused, “I don’t know. They kind of hate me in heaven, and I didn’t exactly make friends on Earth. The only person in existence who might want to find me is my brother, and he’s probably in heaven, either suffering at my older brother’s hand, or believing every word that loser tells him. Either way, I doubt he could look for me, if he wanted to. He might not even know I’m missing.”

Donna was finding herself more and more interested in Lucifer’s story, sensing that the story she knew had a couple of flaws, but Sherlock was more concerned with their present predicament.

“If we are going to get out, we’d stop with the pleasantries and start planning. Any ideas?”


	7. The Promise and the Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff is explained, and the characters start meeting each other.

_Chapter 7: The Promise and the Prayer_

Molly had expected something along these lines ever since she had learned about Moriarty. So of course she agreed when Sherlock asked her if she could prove he was real. He seemed impressed by how she was prepared for this, even though he smiled with doubt when she promised to find a way to save him.

Once he had left to go to the roof and meet Moriarty one last time, she went to meet with one of her contacts. They quickly put her in touch with a man who agreed to meet her. In a shadowy alley just outside one of St. Bart’s exits, she met a hooded man who spoke with a strange voice. His entire appearance screamed mysterious. When she asked if he could save Sherlock, he said he could, but that it would appear that Sherlock was dead. The body that was on the ground, he had said, would be dead and it was fine to let people bury it. Sherlock would return in a different body than that one.

The only other instruction he gave her was that she had to pray to the angel Gabriel, with a very specific message. Even if it made no sense to her, it would be explained with time, and she was to do it, no questions asked.

“What payment do you require?” Molly asked. The stranger just shook his head. She could hear his smile when he said, “I already owe Sherlock. This can be my debt repaid. The only requirement I have is the prayer. If you don’t do it, the entire plan could fail. Say those exact words, or Gabriel won’t come.”

“Come? You’re telling me that the archangel Gabriel is real, and he’ll just show up if I say that?” she asked, more than a little uncertain. He only chuckled and nodded, before disappearing into the shadows.

Molly looked up to see Sherlock stepping to the edge of the roof. She began to pray to Gabriel, and she saw Sherlock cast a glance her way before taking the final step. Even though she had just made a deal for his life, she felt fear in her bones as the man began to fall. When Sherlock hit the pavement and the blood began to flow, Molly had to keep herself calm. 

“Gabriel,” she whispered aloud once she was back in control, “There are three missing in all. I am supposed to join you and the Doctor.” 

 

Gabriel heard the prayer, of course. He heard every prayer directed at him. But he had ignored almost all of them. He would have ignored this one too, but for the startling accuracy of it. The Doctor and he had been exploring areas of the TARDIS, looking for a way to locate Donna. Standing up in alarm at the prayer, Gabriel turned to the Doctor and said, “I might have a lead. Be back in a few.”

The Doctor was about to inquire further, but Gabriel was already gone with a snap of his fingers. Gabriel had come to the conclusion that because of how much truth it held, the woman must know something. He was still puzzling about the three in all comment, but he figured she could explain it.

Molly was slightly startled when a man appeared out of thin air in front of her, but she quickly got over it, “Are you the archangel Gabriel?”

He bowed low with a grin, “And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

“Molly Hooper,” she responded automatically.

“Well, Molly Hooper,” he said, “What can you tell me about the person the Doctor and I are trying to find?” Molly looked distraught, “I was going to ask you! I don’t have a clue what’s going on. My friend was being forced to jump off this building, and a strange man told me he could save him and make it appear as if he had died, and the only price was that I say that to you.”

“So you don’t know what’s going on?” Gabriel asked, disappointed. Then he regained his bright attitude, “Well, whoever that man was knows, and he decreed you’re to come with us, so I’d guess you’re coming with us. Hold on.” He grabbed her hand and snapped his fingers. When they reappeared, they were inside the TARDIS.

Molly looked around in amazement at the astonishing interior of the ship. The Doctor raised his eyebrows at Gabriel and gestured at her. Molly turned and saw him, “Well you look even weirder than he does,” she pointed to Gabriel. Taken aback, the Doctor said, “What?” followed by, “So you’re not surprised by the futuristic and alien technology in here?”

“No. I had-have-a weird friend. I’ve seen enough stuff that I’m not surprised by much anymore. So you’re an alien? And you actually look the same as us?” she asked. The Doctor smiled, “Oh, you catch on quick! Yeah, I look the same. Can’t say anyone else has ever taken it quite this well. Although you might freak out when you see the outside…” Molly quirked an eyebrow, “I kind of doubt it, but if you say so.”

“Well we’ll get a chance to find out soon,” stated Gabriel, “The TARDIS has found her. It can’t get too close, for some reason, but it’s landing nearby on the planet. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. I don’t think I can snap in there either. There’s powerful magic on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an idea for the whole thing, so hopefully I'll be able to update regularly or at least quickly. Please comment.


	8. The Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock, Lucifer, and Donna discuss their options.

Sherlock sat at a table with a woman who had traveled in time and the devil himself, yet he still was sure his mind was superior. As they sat around, brainstorming ways to get out, he began to notice how similar their personalities were. Each one was sure they knew the most or the best (obviously he did, but if it made them feel better…) and they all spoke their minds without a second thought. Either they were going to hate each other before the end, or befriend each other. Even the great detective himself couldn’t decide which it would be.

“We’ve wasted too much time around here already,” he interrupted, glancing at his watch, “It doesn’t matter which door we pick, or what may lie beyond, we haven’t much of a choice anymore. I still say the west door is the best option because west is often thought of as left and if we are at the center of a maze, the correct path, statistically, begins to the left.”

Donna looked at him with a ‘duh!’ expression and said, “But which one is west? Didn’t that cross your mind?”

“Of course it did!” he returned, pulling out a compass, “It’s that one.” He pointed at one of the four doors. Lucifer held out a hand to stop him, “But what about the material. Each door is a different material, it could be some sort of test.”

Sherlock paused, actually surprised. He hadn’t considered that, assuming their captors merely wanted to see if they could get out, not to see which _way_ they’d pick. The door to the west was made of steel. To the north was wood, east was plastic, and south was opaque glass. Lucifer continued, “If I wanted people to pick one of the doors each one would mean something. To me, steel represents strength, wood represents humility, plastic represents stubbornness, and glass represents importance.”

“So you suggest we go through the glass one?” it wasn’t really a question. Sherlock knew the answer was clear enough. Donna had been listening to the conversation when she hesitantly put forth her own opinion, “As much as I never thought I’d say this, I agree with Lucifer. His representations seem pretty accurate to me, and I’d say go through the glass one. Besides, if we are on a different planet, there’s probably some kind of magnetic thing messing with your compass. I’d say Satan here makes more sense.” Sherlock looked at both of them, then at the doors again. Finally he relented, “I can see your point. The glass door it is, then?”

The other two nodded in agreement, and Donna went over to check if it would open. Of course, it didn’t. As one, the three asked, “So how do you propose we get out of here?” and as one they drew lock picks from hidden pockets in their clothes. They looked around at each other, all standing in relatively the same position, all holding lock picks, all prepared for the exact same occurrence. Donna laughed first. Lucifer-surprisingly, or so he thought-cracked up next. Eventually even Sherlock conceded that it _was_ funny and chuckled a bit. 

None of them were the types to roll about on the floor in mirth, though. Once they recovered, Sherlock was voted the most experienced and given space to try and open the door. It took him slightly under a minute to pick the intricate lock. He turned the knob, pushed slowly, and they all stood watching, curious, as the door swung outward.

Nothing could have prepared them for what lay on the other side of the door.


	9. Brothers (of the Past)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock, Donna, and Lucifer discover a little more about what's beyond the door. Meanwhile, two older brothers remember when their little brothers were kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating regularly like I swore I would. It's longer than usual, but that doesn't make up for it. I swore not to be the one who doesn't update often, but apparently I have a lot of issues with that. I have no idea when I'll update next as I have about fourteen other stories I'm working on and Camp NaNoWriMo starts in a few days. I have not forgotten or abandoned this story, though. The title of this chapter comes from an Iron Savior song from the album 'Unification'. However, the chapter is not based on the song. I just liked the sound of it. Sorry for any mistakes. Please comment.

Chapter 9: Brothers (of the Past)

    The three stepped out into what was a room, but looked like the outdoors. A rocky plain surrounded a single mountain with a visible entrance at its base. From the door, a path led to that entrance.

    But as they stood looking on, the ground shook and ice shot from what they now recognized to be a volcano. Some unknown force guided the shards to land in formations on either side of the path. Each though the formations looked vaguely familiar, but were too far away to discern.

    “Is it safe?” asked Donna. Lucifer rolled his eyes, “Do we have a choice?” Sherlock directed their attention to the door behind them, which had closed and vanished, “No, apparently not.” Donna glanced warily at the ice shards, “I don’t like this. It feels off.” Sherlock scoffed, “Unless you are referring to the way in which the ice landed, you are merely allowing human emotion to cloud your mind.”

    Before Donna could sarcastically retort, as she was about to do, Lucifer interrupted, “YOu should not be so quick to dismiss intuition. If humans understood it you would not be nearly so flawed. As an archangel, or a former one anyway, I can tell you that whatever is ahead is something we do not want to see.”

    Sherlock shook his head at this foolishness and strode forward confidently. Lucifer caught up quickly and walked alongside him. The consulting detective spoke disdainfully, “We have no other options right now.” Lucifer sneered back, “I said we wouldn’t like it, I didn’t say we shouldn’t go.”

    Donna hesitated a moment before joining them, “Well I’m not going to let you high-and-mighty morons leave me behind."

 

   ~            ~            ~

 

    Michael sat in his office in Heaven glaring at the wall. He did that a lot these days, ever since his brothers had turned traitor. Michael snorted, breaking the silence. He was no fool. He knew whose fault it really was. Gabriel and Lucifer had just been kids-they were his responsibility! It had been his job to protect them from making foolish mistakes and having to suffer the consequences.

    And deep down-so deep that he could deny it-Michael knew they were right. He knew he was the coward for obeying, for blaming them. Of course, he also had a responsibility to Heaven and his army. That was why he lied and pretended they deserved it. Pretended he wouldn’t help them if he could.

    He also pretended that he didn’t care, didn’t wonder about them. But every moment alone for him was a moment of “What if’s?” despite his ‘intolerance’ for such nonsense like that. Often he wondered if Gabriel had found Lucifer. Today, however, he felt particularly bad. One of the youngest angels, Balthazar, had reminded him of them. Today he wondered what would have happened had he intervened on their behalf, and what might happen if he could help them now.

    So lost in thought was he that he did not notice the figure that appeared behind him until they put a hand on his shoulder. Michael jumped and spun around, his chair vanishing with a snap as the archangel tried desperately to hide what he’d been thinking from his father. Obviously, it was in vain.

    “Michael,” God said calmly. Michael stood as straight as he could and replied, “Yes, Father?” God smiled lightly, “What would you say if I told you that you could watch Lucifer’s progress?”

    “Father?” Michael asked, confused.

    “I mean it. Well?”

    “I-It would give me peace of mind, Sir.”

    God conjured a large, smooth crystal and waved his hand over it. Lucifer’s image appeared on the surface. He placed it on Michael’s desk, but halted the archangel with a gesture, “Furthermore, you will be given one opportunity to travel through this and help out. You will have one hour before being transported back. You may do this once and only once, so choose wisely.”

    Michael stared with shock and amazement at God, but the latter vanished before he could ask any questions. The eldest archangel stared down at the image of his little brother. About that time he realized he could hear what was going on as well.

    As it turned out, Michael had inadvertently lied to God. Watching his younger brother commit every vile and evil act imaginable _did **not**_ give the archangel peace of mind.

    He remembered Lucifer as he had been as a child. Always the brightest, always too curious for his own good, but firmly convinced that Michael knew the answer to any question he posed. As a child, Lucifer would have followed his brother off of a cliff. He did once.

    When all the other angels and archangels had been too young to be trained, Michael had taught Lucifer everything he knew about being an archangel. Lucifer, however, was a quick learner. Often he would complain about the repetitiveness of Michael’s lessons. Michael would be doubtful of his brother’s skills and ask him to prove his mastery of the day’s subject. Lucifer always succeeded.

    “Can we do something else, now?” the young archangel always asked. Even though it was a little kid’s complaint, there was always a subtle sarcasm that Michael now cursed himself for ignoring. He convinced himself that he had imagined it.

    He hadn’t.

    And every time Lucifer complained of his boredom, Michael stopped feigning interest in teaching. He wanted to have adventures, and if Lucifer wanted to tag along, his brother didn’t mind in the slightest.

    That day was no different. Michael went exploring on one of the experimental planets with Lucifer just behind him. The place was a bright, green jungle full of life. Earlier, the older archangel had  ventured here and he remembered the most amazing thing.

    “Hey Luce, you want to see something cool?” he asked. Lucifer looked up from the fern he had been inspecting and nodded eagerly. Michael led his brother towards the center of the forest and turned when he saw the rock he used as a marker.

    “This way,” he called and broke into a run, Lucifer hurrying along behind. All of a sudden he sensed the edge and leapt, recalling how he had accidentally fallen off the first time. Looking behind him he saw Lucifer jump too. It had never crossed his mind the amount of trust his younger brother had in him. In the same way, it had never crossed his mind that Lucifer’s weakest skill was landing.

    Michael easily opened his wings and touched the ground lightly. But as he returned his gaze to his brother he saw the quickly descending archangel’s expression change from excitement to fear. He opened his wings but too late to gain control and crashed into the only dangerous plant on the ground: a thorny rose bush.

    Rushing over, Michael knelt by the figure on the ground. His brother hadn’t moved.

    “Lucifer?” Michael asked, his voice shaking with uncertainty and concern. Lucifer stirred slightly but did not get up. He looked up at his older brother and said, “I feel weird. I don’t like it.” Michael cautiously helped his brother out of the thorns and assessed the damage. The younger archangel had countless scratches and gashes, most of them bleeding. With a look of guilt Michael healed his brother’s wounds.

    “I’m sorry. I should have warned you,” he said, cursing his own stupidity. Lucifer shook his head, “No, it’s okay. No harm was done that could not be undone...oh.” Michael’s head snapped up as his brother's voice dropped in disappointment. He followed the boy’s gaze to the rose bush, which had been crushed. Lucifer choked back a sob, “I didn’t mean to kill anything…” Michael put a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, “If anyone’s to blame it’s me. Here, I’ll fix it.” Personally Michael didn’t care if one plant died, especially a plant that had injured his brother. But clearly Lucifer cared, so Michael used his Grace to restore the plant.

    Lucifer lightly touched the nearest rose, “They’re lovely. What are they?”

    Michael shrugged, “Some sort of flower. Roses I think. Plants are wonderful, but they aren’t really my specialty. Do you want them to be one of your’s?”

    “Maybe.”

    The rest of the day passed joyfully, more so when Lucifer discovered a waterfall in a clearing. Waterfalls made everything better. That was what Michael had thought as a kid. He had waterfalls, Luce had flowers, and somehow Gabriel had gotten candy. Michael wasn’t sure how that had happened. Raphael had books, he thought. They all had that one little thing that could make them feel better no matter how foul a mood they were in. Michael now doubted, though, that a waterfall could fix this mess.

    He was pulled from his thoughts by the image on the crystal. Lucifer was on trial for witchcraft. How the hell had he ended up there? Despite himself, Michael smiled at some of his brother’s antics-the expressions and comments he made showed a courage Michael would never have.

    As always with these events, the defendant was proclaimed guilty. Michael watched with dread as his little brother was dragged to the stake. He would have denied it on the spot, but Michael silently cried while Lucifer was being tortured. And then, just when the flames crept too close and Michael was considering trying to intervene, the scene changed. Lucifer was sprawled out unconscious in a strange room.    

 

           ~           ~            ~

 

    At the same time that Michael was reconsidering his actions and life choices, another older brother was doing something similar. Mycroft Holmes sat in his office glancing at the reports he was supposed to read. Half an hour had passed since he’d gotten the phone call, but it felt like half a second. Sherlock had jumped off the roof of Saint Bart’s Hospital. He was dead.

    It was ironic how he had found out, and nothing annoyed Mycroft more than irony.

    “I don’t know, threaten them with explosives,” he’d said in his off hand way, “You’ll think of something. Dismissed.” He turned back to his desk just as his cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID he raised an eyebrow. It was one of his people keeping tabs on Sherlock.

    “Yes?” he answered. The voice on the other side was panicked, “Sir, he’s on a roof-the hospital. Moriarty’s with him. He-Sherlock-just stepped up to the edge. Should I interfere?”

    Mycroft paused, looking out his window in thought before giving a decisive reply of, “No. Sherlock’s not stupid. He wouldn’t actually jump.”

    “Yes, Si- _Oh My God_!” the calm words became a shocked exclamation and Mycroft spun on his heel and strode towards his desk. He did not sit down.

    “What is it?” he asked sharply. There was a millisecond of absolute silence-or so he thought, the world cared not for one man and his phone call. ANd then the agent quietly spoke, “It’s your brother. He-he did it. He jumped. There are medics rushing to him now. They’re saying he’s dead.”

    Mycroft sat down. He managed to say, “Keep an eye on things. Thank  you,” and hang up before he emotionally collapsed. He clung to the ideas and lessons he had held himself to-and forced upon his little brother. Sherlock always accepted the rules Mycroft had decided were important and both brother’s continued living their lives in the same style as they had perfected as children. The man who ‘was the British government’ repeated his own words over and over in his mind.

    “Emotions make us weak.” “Everyone dies, but only some deaths accomplish anything.” “Don’t panic.” The phrases seemed so meaningless in real life. As a kid, Mycroft had spent his days convincing himself and his brother that he was the smarter of the two. He spent his days teaching Sherlock how to shut out the world and master his mind. And now Sherlock was gone.

    What had been so important to his brother that he would risk his own life for it? Mycroft truly could not come up with a possible scenario. Shaking his head to clear it of thoughts of his younger brother, of his first apprentice, of his brother as a kid with their dog Redbeard.

            ~            ~            ~

    Lucifer, Sherlock, and Donna were drawing close to the ice sculptures. The archangel had the best eyes and saw first, but Sherlock followed by Donna saw it seconds later. Each stopped abruptly, staring at the one thing they feared the most. Their pasts.

    Donna feared looking at her past because it was filled with reminders of how worthless she was.

    Sherlock feared the image of his past because he was embarrassingly kind, carefree, and unobservent.

    Lucifer feared the others seeing his past because it showed all his weaknesses.

    Regardless of their fears and the motives behind them, the figures of ice were perfect representations of their best and worst memories, each as embarrassing as the other. And they had to walk past each reenactment accompanied by two people they still weren’t sure if they could trust. They had to reach the door.

 


End file.
